Clarity emerges slowly these days,
Yet when it comes, after many prayers,
It is bathed in a halo of silence.
It heals plagued red wounds of inner violence.
And it helps me piece together fragments;
That are scattered out in all directions.
O then I can wrest the innocent
From dark experience and dreadful visions!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem